


The Bumpkin

by StrangeMischief



Category: Doctor Strange (2016), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-10
Updated: 2018-12-10
Packaged: 2020-10-26 10:03:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,608
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20740433
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StrangeMischief/pseuds/StrangeMischief
Summary: “Right, that’s cool. I’m from Queens,” Peter continued, obviously struggling to ask Stephen where he was from without actually asking. “What I really meant though was, where did you live before you moved to Greenwich? Where’s home, you know?”“Oh, the Upper East Side.”Tony burst out laughing and turned just in time to see Peter’s eye twitching at Stephen’s smug expression.





	The Bumpkin

**Author's Note:**

> As always, enjoy :3

_ The Bumpkin _

Many people had said Tony Stark’s name. Friends, family, and foes. News reporters, board members, and fans. Rhodey groaned it in exasperation over the phone, and Peter shouted it enthusiastically from across the room. Tony Stark’s name had been spoken in every way feasible by more people than he cared to take into account. And yet, no one had ever said it quite like Stephen Strange did.

A commanding, “Tony Stark?” rung out across the park, and at that moment, Tony felt as if he had never heard his name spoken before. The voice held a smooth, southern drawl and dragged the vowels in Tony’s name out with the speed of molasses while winding around the ‘R’ in a lilted way that had an almost harmonic quality.

It was bewitching.

Tony turned, and a tall man with silver-streaked hair and odd robes strode confidently from an amber portal, light eyes set firmly on the man before him. “I'm Doctor Stephen Strange,” the stranger drawled, coming to a halt in front of Tony’s shocked form. “I'm gonna have to ask you to come along with me.”

Tony drank in the peculiar sight before him, struggling to comprehend what was happening while simultaneously replying the deliciously drawn out way his name had been spoken in his mind. “I’m sorry, what’s happening?”

“It’s Thanos. He’s comin’ this way,” the man, –_Stephen_– sighed impatiently. “Now, if you’ll follow me, your friend, Doctor Banner, is waitin’ in my Sanctum.”

\---

A southern gentleman Stephen Strange was not. The man wasn’t even remotely grateful that Tony and Peter had saved him from having his face shish kebabbed by Squidward. Rather, he spent the first few minutes following his rescue berating Tony for following the ship in the first place.

“There was no need for the two of ya to intervene,” Stephen grumbled. “He wouldn’t have been able to obtain the stone from me. All you’ve done is put you, and your…your…what is he? Your ward?”

“Um, no,” Peter broke in. “I’m Peter. Or Spider-Man.”

“A pleasure,” Stephen drawled, tilting his head slightly in Peter’s direction. “Doctor Strange.”

Peter’s lip quirked, and a short snort sounded from the back of his throat. “Your accen-”

“Peter,” Tony interrupted, giving the teen a warning look.

Peter nodded vigorously and rushed to apologize. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, Mister Doctor Strange, sir. I wasn’t laughing at your name! I just, you know, um, well…where are you, erm, where are you from?”

“Greenwich,” Stephen deadpanned. He looked unimpressed by Peter’s unsubtle attempts to pry information from him and shot Tony a withering look as if blaming him for Peter’s awkward curiosity.

Tony snickered and ducked away from the barbed look Peter threw him. He slipped off towards the ship’s navigation panel, leaving the teen to deal with the snarky sorcerer himself.

“Right, that’s cool. I’m from Queens,” Peter continued, obviously struggling to ask Stephen where he was from without _actually _asking. “What I really meant though was, where did you live _before _you moved to Greenwich? Where’s home, you know?”

“Oh, the Upper East Side.”

Tony burst out laughing and turned just in time to see Peter’s eye twitching at Stephen’s smug expression.

\---

They had been ambushed by a giant insect, Mr. Clean, and a cocky ginger.

“Now you listen here,” Stephen began firmly, fist clenched tightly behind his conjured shields. “What master are you servin?”

“‘What master are you servin?’ can you even hear yourself talk?” Cocky Ginger snorted. “I didn’t know Thanos was recruiting country bumpkins from the backwoods of-”

“Hey!” Tony snapped, the repulser aimed at the ginger morphing into a larger, more menacing weapon while the blaster aimed at Mr. Clean revved to life. “You got something to say about my guy? Let’s hear it.”

“Quill!” the buggish woman shrieked, her eyes darting worriedly towards Mr. Clean. “Stop this! They’ll kill him!”

“Stark,” Stephen warned, his gleaming sigils wavering slightly as he fixed the other man with an exasperated look. “We want to get outta here _alive, _remember? De-escalate. _De-escalate._” The sorcerer turned towards the cocky ginger, Quill, and fixed him with a cold glare. “We’re not allies of Thanos. And neither are y’all, I imagine. You’re from Earth.” It wasn’t a question, but a statement.

“No, I’m not from Earth,” Quill scoffed, his grip on Peter’s neck slacking slightly. “I’m from Missouri.”

Peter ducked out of Quill’s weakened hold and slipped behind Tony, trying, and failing to stifle a laugh at Quill’s ridiculous answer.

Tony had to tamper down the urge to obliterate Quill on the spot, his dislike for the man growing by the second. “That’s on Earth, _dipshit,_” he spat. The blaster aimed at Mr. Clean contorted back into the arm of the Iron Man suit, and the repulser on his palm hummed as it powered down. “You’re over there making fun of the Doc, and you don’t understand basic fucking geography.”

“Yeah, well-” Quill began to argue, but was quickly cut off by Stephen.

“Enough. You’re both pretty, no need to get all bowed up,” Stephen huffed, helping the antennaed woman to her feet. “Now, clearly, we’re all here for the same reason. Could one of you kindly tell us where we are?”

Quill frowned and holstered his blaster while reaching to haul Mr. Clean to his feet. “It’s Titan. Didn’t you know? No one comes here by _accident_.”

\---

Tony and Quill had argued heatedly over who had a better plan while Stephen gruffly threw in commentary on what would lead to the most successful future for hours before Thanos appeared.

The Titan already had three infinity stones – power, space, and reality – nestled snuggly in his gauntlet by the time he arrived. And while the unlikely band of six were moderately successful in holding their own against the stones’ power, the fight took a turn for the worst when Thanos zeroed in on Quill, taunting the man by revealing he still held another member of the Guardians of the Galaxy, Gamora, captive. From there, their attack became less coordinated as the Guardian’s attacks moved from strategic group strikes to individual, emotionally-driven assaults.

Tony was beginning to worry about the outcome of the fight when a small pod skidded into the sand, and an alien that could only be described as a warrior leapt from her smoking safety pod midflight. She sprung into battle, eyes set on Thanos as she belted a furious battle cry that clearly indicated her intent to draw blood.

And she did.

No number of infinity stones would have prepared Thanos for the attack unleashed, and no amount of planning by any force could have rivaled the sheer willpower of a highly-trained assassin intent on revenge. She charged towards Thanos, a large, jagged sabre in hand and fire in her dark eyes. So precise were the woman’s blows, it would have been easy to imagine that she had foreseen this battle beforehand and planned each perfectly-timed swing.

Where Thanos had sheer power, the blue warrior had skill. Where he had used brute strength, she used deceitful half-passes and faked jabs. When he flexed his wrist to draw on the stone’s power, she struck him in the soft skin under his arm. The others danced around the heavily engaged pair, taking a swipe when the opportunity presented itself or preventing the rare blow she might have not anticipated, but the warrior held her own.

Their duel was magnificent but surprisingly brief. Thanos made a poorly timed turn, meaning to grab Stephen by the throat, just as the blue alien sprung off a rock formation, sword held high above her head. Thanos noticed her move a moment too late, and just as his gauntleted fist was ripped out of Tony and Peter’s grip, she brought the sword down on his head. A shriek of victory ripped from her throat as it sliced deep into the purple being, and his eyes dimmed as his body fell to the ground.

And just like that, it was over.

“What the hell was that, Nebula!” Quill shouted, turning on the cyborg warrior.

“Me saving the universe,” Nebula deadpanned, flicking the blood from her blade with a sneer of revulsion. “You’re all welcome. You, Quill, can repay me by lending me your ship. My pod is insufficient for long distance travel.”

“You’re not taking my ship anywhere!” Quill gawked, swinging his blaster up to aim at Nebula’s face. “Not when you just ruined my only chance of getting Gamora back! Thanos was the only one that knew where she was you idiot!”

“Gamora is on Terra, _you idiot,_” Nebula snapped, looking seconds away from making Quill the next victim of her wrath. “A woman from the Starforce caught wind that Thanos held a captive who knew the way to the soul stone. She came, took Gamora, and left for Terra. She spoke of friends she on Earth that would keep Gamora safe.” She twirled her sabre and swiftly slid it into the sheath on her back in a clean, practiced motion. “Now, where is your ship?”

“Mister Stark, she is the coolest person I’ve ever met!” Peter gasped in awe, his nano-mask peeling back to reveal his shocked face. “Isn’t Nebula awesome, Mister Stark? She’s like a _Jedi. _Hey, hey, Quill! Is she a Jedi? Are Jedi _real_? Oh my god, we’re going with her on her Jedi mission! Holy shit, this is the coolest vacation ever Mister Stark!”

“Peter! Language!” Tony chastised, watching in half-hearted disdain as Peter eagerly darted over and began questioning Nebula if she was trained in a temple or was self-taught. Whatever the answer was, he didn’t imagine it was pleasant, as Mantis hurriedly distracted the teen with an offer of food.

The misfit group began making their way to Quill’s ship, and Tony soon fell in step beside Stephen at the rear of the group, where he could silently observe Peter interrogate the Guardians and Nebula on alien weapon training.

Peter had just begun questioning Nebula on if she was able to use the Force when Stephen chucked darkly from beside Tony, emerald eyes lingering on the overly-excited teen. “You ain’t never hearin’ the end of that. You know that, right?”

Tony shuddered, the rich drawl of Stephen’s words still ringing in his head. “I hope not.”

\---

“Okay, Mister Strange,” Peter sighed, sounding just about as fed-up as Tony felt. He had been playing _Guess Where Stephen Is From _for the last two hours, and it had started grating on Tony’s nerves after the first fifteen minutes. “Before you lived in Greenwich, and before you lived in the Upper East Side, and _before _you lived in the dorms at Columbia, where did you live exactly?”

“Hmmm.” Stephen arched a brow and thoughtfully bit into the odd green pastry Mantis had procured for them before the journey home began. “In a run-down apartment with a physio major who went by the name Bats. It was a few blocks from campus. He was a real doggish fella.”

“_Oh my god_,” Peter groaned, slamming his head onto the table in front of him. “I can’t do it anymore. You win.” He stood from the table and headed through the short hall leading to the cockpit, where the Guardians and Nebula were debating the quickest route back to Earth. “I’m going to see if Mantis has any more of those spicy muffins.”

Tony watched Peter leave before glaring at the man seated across from him. “Come on, Stephen. Stop jerking the kid around. He’s well-intentioned and too scared to sound rude to just tell you that you’ve got an accent. Just tell us where you’re from.”

“Why do you need to know?” Stephen retorted, abruptly standing from the table and retreating in the opposite direction of the ship. “What could you possibly gain?”

Tony rose from his seat and jogged after Stephen, struggling to keep up with his long strides. “I just want to know! It’s your hometown, not the nuclear launch codes! Why do you act like it’s a national secret?” Tony bit back defensively. “What the hell has got your cape in a twist?”

“People like _you._”

“Hold up now. People like _me?_” Tony repeated. “What exactly, pray tell, is a person _like me_?”

“Conceited. Arrogant!” Stephen snapped, his cloak swishing menacingly around him as he stalked down the corridors of the ship. “People who look at people from where I grew up as _lesser. _People use a simple difference in pronunciation as a way to justify their own misguided beliefs about people like _me._”

“Jesus, Stephen,” Tony chuckled, closing in on Stephen. He snagged the man’s wrist and twisted him into a corner, preventing him from stalking any further. “You get a lot of crap down at the magical water cooler for saying ‘_y’all’_ around all those posh Hogwarts types?”

“You know what, Stark?” Stephen growled, pushing against Tony’s chest in an attempt to escape. “I don’t need this from you. Especially not today.”

“Just listen, Stephen.” Tony hauled the sorcerer back by his cloak, preventing his escape. “I don’t know what you think you know about me, but I’m not the type sit around and read _The Wall Street Journal _while scoffing your choice of contractions, or sneer if you drop the ‘g’ at the end of a word.”

“How comforting,” Stephen snapped. “Is there a point to this?”

“Yeah. The point is, I don’t think anything about the way you talk…” Tony yanked Stephen down by the front of his robes and leant in close to Stephen’s ear to whisper, “…except that your lovely drawl is one of the hottest things I’ve ever heard in my life. And if anyone wants to disagree to my face, they’ve got another thing coming.”

Stephen shuddered and pulled back just enough to stare at Tony dubiously. “You…like the way I talk?”

“Well, you have other redeeming qualities,” Tony teased, curling his fingers into the soft fabric of Stephen’s robes. “Wit and good looks are always nice attributes, but yes – I _love _the way you talk. I want to hear _more _of you talking. Preferably on Earth. In a restaurant. Do you like shawarma?”

Stephen looked interested by the blatant invitation, but Tony could see some hesitancy lingering in his eyes. “What a sight we’d be. I can see the headline now, ‘Tony Stark Dines in Midtown with Nebraskan…’ What did Quill say? Ah, that’s right, ‘Country Bumpkin.’”

“Slander,” Tony growled, gripping Stephen tighter. “If it bothers you, I’ll just have to-”

A muffled groan of disgust sounded from behind the pair, bringing an abrupt end to their conversation. Tony shifted, subtly placing himself between Stephen and the unannounced person lingering at the end of the hallway, hand already twitching towards the nano-housing unit on his chest.

“You guys! Not on my ship!” Quill’s voice, thick with revulsion, carried down the hall. His voice was stifled by the half-eaten muffin he held between his teeth, making room for the large bundle of what looked like maps and charts that filled his arms. “I get the celebratory mood and all, but it’ll only take a few hours to get back to Earth once we pin down the route. _Please _don’t get friendly on my ship. _Especially _not in the hallway. Everyone will hear, including your freaky little spider kid.”

Stephen laughed softly as Tony made vague threats against Quill and his various appendages for daring to call Peter freaky. “Tough break,” he teased, gently maneuvering his way under and out from where Tony had caged him against the well. “Looks like you’ll have to continue that thought later, _darlin._”


End file.
